


Mulligan Madness

by DistractionCake



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, Fantasy, Gender or Sex Swap, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractionCake/pseuds/DistractionCake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PREVIEW:</p>
<p>"The first time they meet, she's fairly certain, is in 1920." </p>
<p>SUMMARY: </p>
<p>{AU} Basically, what that quote implies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mulligan Madness

**Author's Note:**

> [crossposting-in-progress]
> 
> This was my first proper AU of sorts for this fandom! :) **Originally posted in 2015** , I didn't write that in the summary up-top as I usually do, because this particular fic isn't tied to where we were in canon at the time that I wrote it. (The only significant thing that got affected by canon here, is that in this fic the character of CeCe Drake is who we knew before the -A reveal, AKA just Ali's friend.) Most of my fics _are_ canon compliant, which is why I do the disclaimer in the first place, in case anyone was wondering lol :) ANYWAY, as for this story, bear in mind that I am not a history major lol, but I did strive for ~some factual~ things. I think the summary pretty much explains it all, so. Hope you all enjoy! xx
> 
> Disclaimer: You know. _You know._

  

 

* * *

 

The first time they meet, she's fairly certain, is in 1920. A lot of things change the next few times, but there are some constants she's come to expect.

Their names never change.

They are always the same age.

Her eyes are always blue.

His skin is always tan.

The first time, it's at a party thrown by her parents. They've invited all the important people, and seeing as Emile's father is a decorated Lieutenant Colonel, they get invited along.

Emile seems to think that a good conversation starter is to talk about sports.

"I mean, can you imagine being so good that they pay $125,000 for you?" he asks. His suit jacket fits just right, his tie is perfectly done, his beautiful hair is set to the current style.

He is gorgeous, and he is nervous.

He keeps playing with his soda cup and barely makes any eye contact. Her mother had asked her to try to include him into her group of friends, but they've all managed to avoid coming over to the leather couch Alison now finds herself on.

"You think I'd be good enough to pay that much money for?" she asks back, a flirty smirk on her lips.

Emile finally looks up and locks eyes with her. He licks his lips, before he realizes what he's doing. A blush crawls up his neck and he turns back to playing with his soda cup.

"Good enough at what?" he quietly asks. "Baseball?"

"At being beautiful, of course."

"No," he answers. Alison's eyes narrow and she's about to let out one of her trademark cutting remarks, because _how dare he,_ but she's suddenly stopped when he continues speaking.

"I think you'd be worth a lot more, to be honest."

He looks at her again.

Alison hears her friends calling her over. She smiles at Emile and walks away.

 

xx

 

Two hours and some stolen wine later, Alison kisses him when he exits the bathroom.

"Do you want to see each other again sometime soon?" she asks, liquid courage thrumming through her veins.

"Yes."

She'll find out, some time later, that Emile knew from the moment he saw her that she was it for him. They are young, but it feels like nothing Alison has ever felt before.

A few months later, Alison is murdered.

She'll always be bitter that she never got to say goodbye to him the first time around.

 

* * *

 

The second time, Alison goes for it just as quickly.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asks.

The blushing boy shakes his head. She kisses him.

"If you do that one more time, I promise never again to forget you," he says.

Alison laughs and kisses him again. She believes him.

_She believed him._

A few months later, she gets killed again. She doesn't know who, but it's not hard to guess as to a why.

The night before she had been worried. Unsure if things were meant to play out the same way, she had taken the opportunity to say _something_ to him. Something, meaningful.

"Do you remember the first thing you said to me?" she had asked him.

"Yeah. I asked you if you thought Team USA was going to do well in the Olympics."

"You talked about sports last time, too."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Nothing. Just kiss me," Alison said. As she pulled back from the kiss though, tears had reached her eyes.

"What's wrong, Ali?" Emile had asked, his hands cupping her cheeks.

" _It's a secret._ "

"Ali -"

"I love you, Em," she had said, had interrupted his attempt at trying to get her to open up.

He sighed, but smiled nonetheless, "I love you too, Ali."

Two hours later, she was dead.

 

* * *

 

If she was confused the second time, the third time is definitely making her question her sanity. Because she could do with repeating a version of her life again, but she's fairly certain it was 1972 last time around and now it's 1956. Apparently, her cursed existence cares very little for chronology.

Alison's head hurts tremendously.

Still, without fail though:

"Did you hear about Rocky Marciano retiring? They say there's never going to be another boxer like him again."

Boxing.

Alison wonders if there's some significance behind what sport is chosen each time.

If she's honest though, she really could not care less.

 

xx

 

Another change that comes with this unexpected rewind is having a close friend of hers die.

At the funeral, Alison stares at the body. If she squints her eyes, it's almost as if she sees herself lying in that coffin.

_At least she left a beautiful corpse behind,_ Alison thinks.

"That's immortality, my darling," she mutters before kissing her forehead.

 

xx

 

Her friend's death becomes a constant in her next few lives, even when she goes back to before 1956.

A few lifetimes later though, Alison will get an explanation for it.

"I was trying to stop it from happening. Your murder."

"But instead, you got yourself killed - every time! What the hell were you thinking, CeCe?"

"I was thinking that I love you, you idiot. Plus, it was no fun being left behind will you got to be a legend," CeCe smirks, but behind the snarky response, there is real emotion. Alison smiles at her.

"I'm glad we've both managed to make it out alive this time, then."

"Me too."

"I'm still a legend, though."

"Fuck off, Ali."

Their laughter is as sweet as the memories of lives she no longer has to carry by herself.

 

* * *

 

"My dad says he wants to frame his Celtics shirt, says it'll be worth something someday," Emile says, as he bites into an apple, juice rolling down his chin before he wipes at it with the back of his hand.

The year is 1984. It's June. It's the shortest amount of time they've ever had together before she dies.

Alison doesn't hesitate to kiss him. Not that she ever has before either, because she's never had a reason to hesitate.

Not yet, anyway.

 

* * *

 

She's come to the point where she's accepted her fate. There's no reason not to. She'll live, meet the love of her life, spend months (if she's lucky) enjoying his love, and then one of her best friends will die, and then so will she.

It's a cycle that doesn't end, so Alison really has no reason to think that the year 2008 will be any different, even if it is the furthest she's been allowed to travel by whatever Powers That Be that control her (time) travel destinations.

The first change comes when that tan skin, those brown eyes, and that beautiful hair are attached to -

"Who was that you were just talking to, Hanna?" Alison asks sharply, because it can't be. This has _never_ happened before.

"Oh-h um, that's Emily Fields. She's on the swim team. She's really nice."

Alison swallows back her rising panic and tries to think.

"Tell her to come have lunch with us today."

"Are you sure, Alison?" Hanna asks, her eyes wide as if Alison has just asked her to go defuse a bomb, instead of telling a classmate that they're invited to lunch.

Alison rolls her eyes and walks away.

Her palms are sweaty and she's terrified that maybe she's fucked up something along the way.

 

xx

 

Lunch comes and Emily's first conversation with the girls is about Rosewood, her parents, and her classes.

_Not sports_ , Alison thinks.

Eventually swimming does get talked about, but it's not - it's not like all the times before.

Alison's not sure if she's relieved or not.

 

xx

 

As it turns out though, Emily and Alison have class on the same side of the building, so they walk together. The silence is only slightly awkward, until Emily decides to break it.

"Did you know that with his eight gold medals, Michael Phelps set a record?"

Alison freezes in her tracks.

Emily pauses and locks eyes with her.

"Are you okay?"

Alison wishes she knew the answer.

 

xx

 

She doesn't kiss Emily.

Not at first. When she does though, she plays it off as a game. Alison knew she could be mean, but this cruelty… it's the first time she's been a coward in all of her lifetimes. It's the first time she has ever hesitated when it comes to her love.

Emile would be heartbroken -

Emily already is.

And if they're one and the same - 

Alison doesn't know what she's supposed to do.

 

xx

 

CeCe doesn't die.

Her constants keep changing and Alison is terrified of what it all means.

 

xx

 

Alison gets killed.

Except she doesn't. She _survives_.

It's the first time that's happened and Alison knows, she _knows_ now with certainty, that she is finally getting her shot at getting it right.

And she's sure she knows what it is she has to do, too.

Things are changing and now is Alison's chance, her chance to finally get them their happy ending.

She can be brave. She knows she can.

It's the least Emile- _Emily_ deserves.

All she has to do now is find out who -A is.

 

* * *

 

With -A finally caught, Alison breathes a sigh of relief.

They're sitting at the police station, everyone's buzzing around - a range of emotions filling the room.

Joy.  
Relief.  
Love.

Emily is sitting next to her, holding her hand.

And Alison can't begin to explain how big her heart feels right now.

"Did you know that in 1920, Babe Ruth was traded by the Red Sox for $125,000. It was the largest sum ever paid for a player at that time."

Alison's breath leaves her and she turns to look at Emily.

"I mean, can you imagine being so good that they pay $125,000 for you?" There's a knowing smile on Emily's face.

Alison's sure her eyes are so wide she looks ridiculous, but she doesn't care. Because this is happening - it really is. She's speechless for a beat longer before she manages to croak out her response.

"You think I'd be good enough to pay that much money for?" Alison asks, her voice trembling and tears forming in her eyes.

"I think you'd be worth a lot more, to be honest," Emily answers.

Alison laughs and lets the tears run down her face.

"I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise," Emily says.

Alison promptly kisses her.

"I love you, Em," she says as she pulls back to rest their foreheads together. Finally together, every piece, of every life, of them.

"I love you too, Ali."

A beat passes.

"Why sports, though?" Alison asks and Emily laughs.

She could not care less about the answer though, all Alison knows is that she's never been so happy to get that god-forsaken second chance.

Again.

 


End file.
